The Journey Begins
by Galasteir
Summary: When House Bolivakhar is ruined with death and sickness, Blödsvar the seventh child of Lord Dalazaar has himself a really rough day with threats and of a rebel magical cult allied with the wood elves' enemy, the Goblins. My first fanfiction story.


_**A Rough Day**_

An elf and a goblin stood outside of the battlefield alone ready to kill each other themselves. Braegan, the five foot ten wood-elf and Noble Prince, heir to the King of the wood-elves and to the House Bolivakhar. Aldroz, the five foot Goblin Leader of Granermor was the other.

They faced each other just beyond the field of bloodied warriors. Aldroz drew his sword with his right hand. The weapon was thinner than that of Braegan's, but just as long and sharp. He slid his out of the leather sheath and held the silver blade point-down by his side. For a moment they stood motionless, elf and goblin, enemy and enemy watching each other. It flashed through Braegan's mind that this was how many of his duels with his father began, except this time he was fighting to kill. Fighting for his House! And fighting for his own life!

He moved forward cautiously. With a blur of motion Aldroz taunted him and jumped into the sky, flying past Braegan to the other side of him. The young elf was stupid enough to watch the Goblin Leader as he was in air and stared right into the bright sun, stunning his vision for a second turning all but black. As Aldroz landed Braegan got his vision back and, luckily, blocked the attack to his ribs from Aldroz. Steel met steel for just a quick second, and their swords met in a shower of sparks. Braegan was batted aside as if he was no more than a fly. The ferocious attack made the Noble Prince's hands shock and sting. Aldroz did not take advantage of the opening; however, but spun to his right, black hair whipping through the air, and struck the other side of Braegan. He barely stopped the blow and backpedaled frantically, stunned by his ferocity and speed which excelled his old age.

Braegan tried to break the cover of Aldroz with a complicated razzle-dazzle as steel cut through leather and flesh and Aldroz screamed out in pain and barged away from the young elf. Aldroz neglected his defense to take the Prince by surprise with a fierce attack, but the weapon of Aldroz swishes only millimeters aside the face of Braegan. Virtuoso Braegan parried the fierce attack of Aldroz and he raised a storm of hits and stabs. Dizzy and confused, Aldroz looks out for the next attack. The goblin whirled around and tried to hit Braegan, but from the corner of his eye, he sees as he is hit in the left side. Braegan grins at his enemy whom couldn't avoid the attack.

Belatedly, Braegan remembered his father's warning that even the weakest elf could easily overpower a stronger elf. He had about as much chance of beating Aldroz as anyone. The goblin attacked again, swinging at his head. He ducked under the razor-sharp edge. But then why was he…_toying _with him? For a few long seconds he was too busy warding him off to think about it, then he realized, _he wants to ware me out so I run out of energy and so he can bring my dead body to father_.

Understanding that, he began the most straightforward series of attacks he knew. He flowed from one pose to another, recklessly combining and modifying them in every possible way. But no matter how fertile he was, Aldroz's sword always stopped his. He matched his actions with effortless grace.

The young elf hits Aldroz and the goblin sees stars before his eyes as the attack of Braegan touches his head. But throws a fistful of sand into the eyes of the Braegan to blind him and begins to beat him down. The young elf screams out in pain and rushes away from the Goblin Leader.

Engaged in a fierce dance, their bodies were linked and separated by the flashing blades. At times they nearly touched, taut skin only a hair's breath away, but then momentum would whirl them apart, and they would withdraw for a second, only to join again. Their sinuous forms wove together like twisting ropes of windblown smoke.

Braegan hit the goblin several times in a row as sparks flew. For a short moment Braegan and Aldroz are wedged into each other and glance at one another full of lust for killing and blood. They broke free and Aldroz tried to bluff the young elf with a feint so that he can hit hard. Braegan whirls around, defends himself with his armor and foresees the junk that the goblin through at him and then hits him several times in a row.

Aldroz tries to bluff Braegan with a feint again, but a jump aside saves the Prince from being chopped in two halves. The weapon of Aldroz hits the ground sparkling. Braegan seizes the moment and takes the old goblin by the neck and thrusts his sword into the stomach of the goblin. Aldroz falls to the ground close to his blade. Braegan points the end of his sword to the sky and grips the handle with both hands and strikes down to the ground aiming for the goblin's head. Aldroz, somehow, dodges the strike by rolling to the right and picking up his blade.

Braegan could never remember how long they fought. It was timeless, filled with nothing but action and reaction. The young elf's sword grew leaden in his hand; his arm burned ferociously with each stroke. At last, as he lunged forward, Aldroz nimbly sidestepped, sweeping the point of his sword up to his jawbone with supernatural speed. The goblin whirled around and tried to place a critical hit on Braegan, but the elf easily averted the attack. Braegan avoided the attack by the goblin to place a critical hit on him.

Pure luck--or by the will of the Gods--saves Aldroz and the young elf can't believe it. Braegan stroked out to place, hopefully, the last attack as he drove his sword into the abdomen of Aldroz which, possibly, gave inner wounds to the Goblin Leader. Foaming Aldroz unloaded all his pent-up wrath upon the young elf. Braegan gets tossed back by a brutal attack and suffers hardly any damage. Aldroz curses and attacked again but this time is successful by decapitating the head of Braegan while he wasn't looking.

It is a dreadful day for the House Bolivakhar. They had just lost the Noble Prince Braegan who had fallen in battle and was the eldest son of Dalazaar, King of the wood-elves and the House King of Bolivakhar. The House Queen and wife of Dalazaar, Dellena had been growing brutally sick for the past month.

"I think it is time…send for Sowarac," said Eldar the Wise to the young messenger and off he went. Eldar the Wise was six hundred eighty-nine years old, the oldest wood-elf in Torlinthial; and therefore, the oldest known wood-elf in the world since Torlinthial was the only kingdom of the wood-elves. Eldar was called Wise for his good judgment and manner and so that is why he is the Paternal Monk of the wood-elves for his religious ways to the Elven God Delvkanash.

"Master Eldar, do you really think that my love will succumb into darkness? Please tell me that there is a way to save her," said King Dalazaar with freight eyes.

"That is not for me to decide. Only Sowarac can yet tell if she will live or if she will die." Dalazaar knelt beside the bed and took his lover's hand and plummeted his head onto the covers which where made of gracefully fine cloth and had a horizontal line made up of turquoise and a vertical line made up of the gemstone, malachite.

In the corner stood Baalor, the second son of Dalazaar and newly heir to the King of both the wood-elves and of House Bolivakhar. There also stood an unstable Balsani, the eldest sister and potential Queen who was to get married in a few days. She was being held by Ancarius and Bealcrest, the twins and fourth and fifth kids of Dalazaar, respectively. The only one missing was Blödsvar, the youngest who was in school at MeloQ. Dalazaar and Dellena had another child, Gikhanh whom was sacrificed to the basilisk, Tyrath for being the usual fate of the six living child of any wood-elf house family.

"My love?," said Dellena. Dalazaar arose his head from the covers and responded, "Yes?" For minutes the two talked in silence from which no one else could here until the messenger returned with Sowarac, a great white bird that soared in the air above him.

"Whom have I been summoned to fore seek the sickened," he said in a deep voice. Sowarac was a caladrius, a white bird who can foretell if a sick person is going to live or to die. Unfortunately, Sowarac was one of the last of his kind and already old living in the neighborhood of two thousand years, maybe older. He was a descendant of the ancient race of the Feldor whom are all but now extinct.

"Here great caladrius, my lover and wife," said Dalazaar standing out of the way of the four foot bird. Sowarac examined Dellena for many minutes and then came to the conclusion turning to the others slowly. "Thy Queen Dellena" he said softly "shall die" he said slower with the others grieving and not wanting to know when the date would be but yet they felt it was certain to hear "eight sunrises from tomorrow." Sowarac finished with a voice slower and softer than ever. Dalazaar was swarmed by his children's hugs and tears. Sowarac, Eldar and the messenger left the room to let the family have their time.

Halfway across the city in MeloQ, where all wood-elves are trained in melee combat, an important lesson is being taught. Most wood-elves begin their tutelage at the age of ten and it lasts a good twenty to twenty five years. Blödsvar; however, had been training with his father and older brothers and sisters since he was three making him one of the best fighters and even one of the most intelligent. Though Blödsvar is twenty-seven, he is still not considered an adult in elven standards.

"Um how about Aelesar and let me see…Blödsvar," said Mrs. Cerulean. Aelesar and Blödsvar went to the rack and picked out their wooden weapons. Aelesar got two short sticks and Blödsvar got one long one. Blödsvar had a dark tan skin color (darker than most wood-elves) and persian red eyes (most wood-elves had red eyes for their skill to see in the pitch black or in very dark places). He had long white hair and stood at five foot ten, the normal height for moon elves and the tallest of the elven subraces.

"Alright I want you two to use the same technique that we have been studying an practicing all week. Go!"

Aelesar attacked high and Blödsvar attacked low tripping Aelesar to the hard concrete floor. Blödsvar then jumps on top of Aelesar and tries to win by hitting him in the heart but is knocked over. Aelesar and Blödsvar both get back on their feet. Aelesar dives low but Blödsvar jumps over him and as Aelesar gets to his feet Blödsvar is right behind him and knocks him to the ground ending and winning the short fight.

"Very good, very good," said Mrs. Cerulean turning to the class. As Blödsvar walked over to his space he was hit from behind by Aelesar. The rest of the class got to their feet and Mrs. Cerulean turned to see that the two were still going on more fiercely. Instead of stopping the two she decided to let them go on until it got too tense.

They faced each other across the circle of students. Aelesar bent his knees, tightened his grip on the wooden swords and had a hard stare at Blödsvar then moved forward cautiously. With a blur of motion Aelesar jumped him at him, slashing at his ribs. Blödsvar reflexively parried the attack, and their wooden sticks met and could here the loud crackling as they smashed together. With both of Aelesar's wooden sticks at the end of Blödsvar's long stick he could barely hold the two of them off. The two were the best of friends but never sparred against each other.

Though Aelesar was in Sepka, the original fighting style of any wood-elf. Nobody knew what form Blödsvar was using. With his combinations of wall jumping dodges and using quick fierce tactics; he was using Möch Dûn, an ancient fighting style that his father was currently teaching him.

"Alright that's enough," said Mrs. Cerulean but Aelesar wouldn't cut it. He tried to attack Blödsvar again from behind but he was too quick and hearing his silent footsteps and wind blow as he ran Blödsvar ducked and Aelesar tripped as his swung as hard as he could but only got the wind and missing Mrs. Cerulean's head by centimeters. The class laughed but was quickly stopped by the flash of Cerulean's hand. " I said that was enough," she said with a slow dark voice.

She turned to Arlin and said, "That was great melee tactics, young Blödsvar. I haven't seen anything like it." She turned around to Aelesar who was back on his feet and said, "There were nice, quick, fierce, and strong movements you put in there, but your anger and self-importance disrupts you. To fight a friend, and a best friend, if that, takes much, much self-limitation. That is your restrictions and how you have been taught, to never be beaten, but I tell you that we will eventually be beaten…by death. And may that be a lesson to all of that self-assertiveness is not welcomed hear. We are in a war people, and eventually, if this war doesn't end soon you will be called upon. Class dismissed!"

Aelesar walked by Blödsvar hitting him hard in the shoulders. Blödsvar talked to his other friends and waited till Aelesar was done putting his weapons on the rack and then walked over and put his up and then left.

"That was great fighting Arlin. Very much well consumed our minds on how you learn to fight like that. You must tell us," said Katar Eaüin.

"Yea!," shouted the others.

"I'm sorry everyone I cant. It is against the code of my house to reveal any secrets to outsiders," Blödsvar responded walking out of the Atrium.

"I beat you think your better than everyone, don't you?," shouted a voice from the right behind the crowded friends of Blödsvar. They opened a space and there stood Aelesar who had already strapped his sword around his waste other than Blödsvar who was holding his sheath.

"What are you talking about?," Blödsvar said. Aelesar walked up to Blödsvar and was no more than three feet away.

"What I'm talking about is that you think your great. You think that just because you're the king's son you think you're a great fighter like him. That stuff you pulled in their was just lucky tricks. You couldn't do that in a real duel."

"I could beat you any time at any day." Aelesar stared into the light blue eyes of Blödsvar and felt that his lust for power and blood from within would darken Blödsvar greatly. "I challenge you to a Blood Battle." Blödsvar's face drained of color. The temperature might have dropped ten degrees. The others stared at each other and some swiveled backward and forward from Blödsvar and Aelesar. A Blood Battle, the worse duel that anyone would offer to, or even, crazy enough to accept. Blood Battles were a duel to the death and very dangerous. A Blood Battle had not been fought since the third age when they were considered forbidden, especially, to the elves. It was a tempting offer for Blödsvar whom he now hated his ex-best friend, though how would they keep it a secret from the whole kingdom.

"Do you accept my challenge or not?," said Aelesar. Blödsvar wanted to respond with a simple 'yes' but he just couldn't do it. If he was to answer in the way that he wanted he knew that he would be either killed or expelled from the kingdom. Either way, if he chose yes he would be killed or expelled and even if he won the duel he would be considered a murderer and would be killed still. If he chose no he would be a coward for turning the challenge down but in this case he thought he might not be for it was forbidden to have a duel of gruesomeness. "Well do you accept or not?"

"Yes!" said Blödsvar. That three simple letter word scared him at the moment. He knew now that there was no turning back and that he was going to be forced to death either way, if he was to be killed by Aelesar or even if he will win the duel. Either way he knew that he would die.

Blödsvar walked to the dungeon, where all slaves were kept. Each slave was given his own room. When Blödsvar had turned fourteen a barbarian named Thindor, was caught and brought to Torlinthial. Since then, in the past thirteen years, the two have grown a great friendship between one another but still keep big secrets from each other as all friends do. As he walked into the dungeon and up to cellblock one eighty, he requested entrance, the elf banged on the door four times, then unbolted it. "Just holler when you wish to leave," said the elf with a friendly smile.

The cell was warm and well lit, with a writing desk in the far right corner-equipped with quills and ink. The ceiling was extensively carved with lacquered elven symbols; the floor was covered with dirt like that of a horse stable. Thindor laid on the stout bed reading a scroll that looked like he had read more than a hundred times, "Blödsvar! I'd hoped you would come!"

"Thindor I have-I mean I cant -"

The barbarian knew that something was wrong and asked, "Blödsvar, what have you done?" The elf didn't answer nor did Thindor say another word. There was an immense silence in the cell. Blödsvar looked towards the ground while the barbarian remained eye contact into his friend not trying to insult him. For Thindor as he had been a slave he learned that to remain eye contact with someone only then he will earn great respect from that person. This changes from different races as the barbarians were always taught.

"I have been challenged to a Blood Battle, my friend," said Blödsvar breaking the silence. The barbarian's eyes widened as he rolled up off the bed and onto the ground. He stood at seven foot one and was pure muscle from shoulders to toes. Another word was not said as the two chose not to speak.

"Did you accept?," asked Thindor. Blödsvar took his eyes off the ground and looked up at Thindor's face and nodded really slowly. "Why?"

Again there was no answer from Blödsvar for another minute until he said, "I had no choice. Aelesar-"

"Aelesar?" interrupted the barbarian, "I thought he was your best friend…someone you could trust?"

Blödsvar laughed, and with a grin seated himself on the chair by the desk. "I thought so until a while ago when we were at school when Mrs. Cerulean asked me and him to spar against one another. He got all mad after I defeated him and then came from behind and tried to hit me and then we began at it again till I defeated him once more."

Thindor walked over to his bed, sat down and leaned back reflectively "I suspect," he said, "that you tell your father and that maybe he can speak to Aelesar's father and the two of them can come to an agreement."

Arlin agreed.

The barbarian stared at the ceiling. "You know, I find this imprisonment oddly peaceful and enjoyable. I mean I have been in here for nearly eight years but for the first time in my life I feel like I don't have to be shoved around like some horse…yet something about this place puts me at ease. I mean I get everything that I asked for and a good night's sleep always helps, too, other than being out in the forest and using nothing but rocks for pillows and leaves for blankets."

"I know what you mean," said Blödsvar wryly, "well barbarian I'll let you have your peace for the day."

"Peace? Its not even midday yet and I'll get all the sleep I need when I'm dead."

It was a long walk home for the five-foot-ten wood-elf. The whole walk home he thought of how he would tell his father. He thought of how he could convince his father to let him stay in the kingdom if he was to be expelled. He thought of why he had said 'yes' to the offer and to do the forbidden.

Around the corner as he passed the House Eaüin, stood the Great House, which now was the home of the House Bolivakhar, there in the middle of the kingdom. The Great House is the biggest house of any family's and is stayed in by the King. It had a colorful stone walls of the gems; amethyst, garnet, lapis lazuli, turquoise, the most treasured gem of the wood-elves; and tiger's-eye.

As Blödsvar opened the sodalite door two great staircases stood in the front hallway. Between the hallway, the statue of the Elven God of the forest, Sigurthor stood, which was carved with exquisite delicacy out of a dark green turquoise gem. His long hair flew back in liquid ripples rolling down his neck and framing merry opal eyes. In his right hand he held his staff, Vhrogr, which at the tip was a shape of a leaf and in his left hand was a small tree no bigger than his hand. The room to the right was a small dining room with a tiny fireplace and very few books and the room to the left was a room just for supplies.

After climbing several floors, he passed through a copper door waxy with verdigris and embossed with intricate, patterned knots into a bare room floored with wood. Armor hung thickly on the walls, along with racks of long and short swords.

The room was, more likely, the biggest in the house. Many elves circled around watching three men spar against one: Dalazaar. Dalazaar was the Headmaster at the University of Gilwhyn, a school (or college) for the most prestige graduates of 'high schools.' Those who usually graduated in the top three in their class get confirmed into the university. The university teaches advanced magic, melee combat, hand-to-hand combat and many others. The king's blue robe was rucked up over his thighs so he could move freely, his face was like a fierce bear ready to attack. His sword spun in his hands gracefully like that of a free horse galloping. Its sharpened blade darted like riled wasps who have been agitated.

Two young elves lunged at the king, only to be stymied in sparks as their swords met. He spun past them gently like a weasel, rapping their knees and heads and sending them to the floor. Blödsvar grinned as he watched his father disarm his last opponent in a brilliant flurry of blows.

At last Dalazaar noticed his son and dismissed the other elves. As Dalazaar sheathed his sword and the last student walked out of the room, Blödsvar asked, "Why did you have them practice here?"

Dalazaar faced him. "Because Master Barack wanted to use my classroom for today to ensure that his students get the best practice they can before Finals. And what about you, why are you here so early?"

"Mrs. Cerulean pardoned us from class early. She said she had something important to do."

Dalazaar nodded. "Son sit down." Blödsvar sucked in his breath and seated himself next to his father, fearing that he might've gotten word that he was challenged to a Blood Battle. "We spoke with Eldar and the caladrius this morning." Arlin then knew that something bad had happened if Sowarac had to be summoned. "The caladrius said the your mother will die eight sunrises from tomorrow. And your eldest brother was as well killed this morning in an attack by the goblins." A tear dropped from the young wood-elf's face as he was forced to accept the inevitable.

"With this being said you are the new Page Prince of the House and Baalor is the newly heir to the throne. For magic forbids it to be, a caladrius can not be wrong under any cost. That I only hope, pray and wish that Sowarac is. Though I know it will do no use."

"Don't say that father, Sigurthor could prevent this from happening," said Arlin.

"Sigurthor can't affect free will, my son. More or less, a mortal." The two sat there tranquilly for the next minute not moving or even giving any signs of life. Arlin then faced his father and put his hand on his shoulder and said in the elven language, "Maitren aghken vajnain duedur enertish reisurum enaweay oen otash fimalai."

Dalazaar turned his head and looked in his son's eyes and knew that he was right. "You have been working on your languages haven't you?"

The two laughed and hugged each other. Dalazaar got up off the bed and began to put some of the weapons away on the shelves. "So what are we going to learn today?," asked Blödsvar.

"It isn't what we are going to learn it is what I'm going to teach." Blödsvar waited for his father to tell him but it just wouldn't happen. He had to force it out himself, "And what are you going to teach?" Dalazaar finished putting the last sword on the rack and turned slowly to face his son then walked over to him and whispered, "The ancient elven code." Arlin got goose bumps. No one in the kingdom had ever said anything about an ancient elven code and if they did they kept it silent. "Follow me!"

Blödsvar jumped from the voice of his father and ran out of the room. They walked down the long hallway and hanging on the wall was the pictures of past wood-elf Kings and Queens of Torlinthial. There was: King Lindal Ekksvar, who was the first king and founder of Torlinthial, King Dusan Melkolf, who was a dragonslayer and served as king for two hundred seventeen years, Queen Dowyn Moss, the first queen of Torlinthial, King Denrec Soryn, who was king for two hundred fifty six years, Queen Delwin Lothalennor, whom was queen for two hundred thirty five years and many others.

Their footsteps echoed through the hall as they advanced in towards the last room of the hallway. Blödsvar had never been in this room as it was filled with hardly anything. Dalazaar's shadow crossed his faced as he gazed at his son's side. "I see that you have been challenged to a Blood Battle; I was told of this also, and that you have been challenged by Aelesar Handuin, son of Raijen. It does not please me to hear of this news." He extended a hand. "Sit down my son, I must talk to you." The two sat down quietly by a desk made of a fancy and well crated wood.

"Your grandfather, my father Belfezaar would not be happy with this news. For fifty one and two hundred years he tried to stop all darkness and bad tidings that came to this city. All his work is now gone by my mistake by us declaring war with the demonic goblins. Not one war, or a single battle, nor even one drop of blood was spilled on his account as he was king.

"This news, news of this Blood Battle is what he tried to prevent, what he tried to vanquish. As a possible future king of this city I am leaving you in charge of dealing with the punishment of this so-called ex-friend of yours. Understood?" Blödsvar nodded.

"Now that that is over we can continue with the lesson." The king got to his feet. "This sword," he began, "Ebrithil, is the White Flame of the North, forged by the greatest elven-smiths this world had ever seen. For more than five thousand years, this sword has been in our bloodline."

"May I examine it, father." Dalazaar drew the sword and presented it to his son, hilt first. Arlin grasped the sword and ran a practiced eye over the white blade. The edge caught the lantern light in the dark room, reflecting it sharply. He returned Ebrithil, and Dalazaar sheathed it.

"Unfortunately, I mustn't speak with you much longer for my advisers wait for me in the Council Chamber, as there are matters I must deal with, mostly for the war. I will say this, my son: though if you wish the support of the masters to get into Gilwhyn, you must first prove yourself to them. Though they seek the best, some of the best have been rejected for not proving themselves."

"I will keep that in mind, father." The two walked out of the room, and they proceeded down the hall to the front door where three men were gathered waiting for Dalazaar. They were fancied dressed like a king, and could've perhaps been mistaken as one.

"My lord, we have been summoned to an advisory meeting in the Council Chamber," said the tall dark haired one.

"So I have heard. Shall we," said Dalazaar. The three walked out the door and the king turned to Blödsvar and whispered, "The ancient elven code must wait for now. You are to not tell anyone that I am teaching it to you. Not even your brother or sisters or mother. You must also go to the library on the east side of the city. There I have asked Kyrull, the librarian, to show you some special books and others." Dalazaar turned and proceeded out of the house with the others.

After he ate, Blödsvar guided himself through the east side of the city to the library. When he reached the library's carved arch, Blödsvar stepped in. The room was like that of a night. Rows of graceful colonnades branched up to the dark, ribbing ceiling seven stories above. The ceiling was an atrium and although it was a skylight, the son did not shine in, and instead it was like the middle of the night with plenty of stars a full moon gave off more light. Between the pillars, blue-marble bookcases stood back to back. Racks of scrolls covered the walls, interspersed with the narrow walkways reached by the five twisting stair cases up to the next level. Placed at regular intervals around the walls were pairs of facing stone benches. Between them were small tables whose bases flowed seamlessly in the floor.

He sidestepped around a corner and started as he found himself face to face with Kyrull. He was a strong built man who was always dressed in the most exquisite clothes. His black eyes matched the tone of his hair which made him look dangerous but; nonetheless, he was not. Kyrull was carrying three big books and two scrolls laid on the top. "Oh, well hello Arlin your father…I mean the King said you would stop by."

"He said something about a special books and others," said Blödsvar.

"Shh! This is to be kept secret. No one can know that this is within, okay." Blödsvar nodded. The two walked to the north side of the library and Kyrull silently moved a red book from the shelve and looked at Arlin as though something happened. "Nothing happened."

"Wait, just follow me," said Kyrull. They returned down to the hall and to the east side where Kyrull unlocked a room. The two entered the room and was nothing but spider webs, other insects and Kyrull locked the door back up. "Mister Lyr-"

"Just wait a second," Kyrull said cutting Blödsvar off sharply. They stayed in the room for about twenty seconds till Kyrull finally unlocked the door again and open it again. When the door opened they weren't in the library but in a different library.

"This…is the ancient library."

"The ancient library? I've heard about it but never thought of it to be real."

"Oh its real and I'll leave you to it."

"How long may I stay?" asked Blödsvar, moving to the shelves.

"As long as you want. Its kind of hard to get me if you have any questions but if you in fact have an emergency just get on a chair and bang the roof. It'll be heard if anyone is upstairs and they'll think its rats or something but I will in fact know that you will need me," said Kyrull getting into the little room.

Blödsvar browsed through the volumes with delight, reaching for those that seemed interested to him. All about the room there were big books and ancient scrolls that seemed over thousands of years old. Also there were, on the tables, scrolls of which you could write on and golden ink. Shelves filled with moon-letters of which were sacred to the moon-elves, stolen during the Elven War. Eventually he came to a huge golden book that looked ages old and became immersed in it as he began to read:

_**The Suraki Empire**_

"_Before the rule of Sellus Gravius, all Ashtaroth was in chaos. The _

_poet Asmodina called that period of continuous blood spilt 'days and _

_nights of poison and venom.' The kings were a petty lot of grasping _

_tyrants, who fought Sellus' attempts to bring the land back to order. But _

_they were disorganized as they were dissolute, and the strong hand of _

_Gravius' brought peace forcibly to Ashtaroth. The year was 2281. _

_The following year, the Emperor declared the beginning of a new era--thus _

_began the Fourth Age--Empire Age. _

_For fifty-two years, the Emperor Sellus reigned supreme. It was lawful, _

_pious, and glorious age, when justice was known to one and all, from ser _

_to sovereign. On Sellus' death, it rained for an entire fortnight as if the _

_land of Ashtaroth itself was weeping. The Suraki Empire was going into _

_madness._

_The Emperor's grandson, Gancicle, came to the throne. Though his _

_reign was short, he was as strong and resolute as his grandfather had _

_been, and Ashtaroth could have enjoyed a continuation of the Golden Age._

_Alas, an unknown enemy of the Gravius Family hired that accursed _

_organization of cutthroats, the Shadow Legion, to kill the Emperor _

_Gancicle I as he knelt at prayer at the Temple of the Gods in the Empire _

_City. Gancicle's reign lasted less than five years._

_Gancicle had no living children, so the Crown Imperial passed to his _

_second cousin, the granddaughter of Sellus' younger brother Galian. _

_Helvi, former Queen of Safkenar and Chatelaine of Sortha Siil, assumed_

_Throne as Ethariel I. Her reign was blessed with prosperity and good _

_harvests, and she herself was an avid patroness of art, music, and dance _

_like Piila, one of the Gods she worshipped._

_Indrele, son of Gancicle, hereditary took the throne after hew _

_mother's death. Indrele was certainly one of the more flamboyant _

_members of the usually austere Gravius Family. He had many numerous mistresses and nearly as many wives, and was renowned for his lust for _

_women and for the grandeur of his dress. Unfortunately, his reign was rife _

_with the civil war. The War of the Magistrates in 103, seventeen years _

_after Indrele took the throne, nearly took the province of Asmodiea away _

_from the Suraki Empire. The united alliance of the kings of Asmodiea and _

_Indrele only managed to defeat King Nuccius of the island-kingdom of _

_Abigor due to a freak storm that caused damaged to all._

_Indrele's son was crowned after her death, the first to be inscribed in _

_the Imperial name Gilnith. Gilnith I was the great lawmaker of the Gravius _

_Dynasty, and a promoter of independent organizations and guilds. Under _

_his kind but firm hand, the Magicians Guild and Fighters Organization _

_increased in prominence throughout Ashtaroth. His son and successor _

_Gilnith II reigned for thirty two years, from the death of Gilnith I in _

_131 to his own death in 163. Tragically, the rule of Gilnith II was _

_cursed with blights, plagues, and insurrections. The tenderness he _

_inherited from his father did not serve him nor Ashtaroth well, and little _

_justice was done as a massive war broke out._

_The first attack occurred in the Reigmal Coast region, which separates Rabbath Ammon and Arimathaea. Gilnith's entourage was massacred and _

_the Emperor taken captive. For three years, Gilnith II languished in a _

_prison believed to be somewhere in Dungrel or Daggral before he was _

_slain in his cell under mysterious circumstances. The second attack was on_

_a series of Imperial garrisons along the coastal Ashtaroth bay. The _

_Emperor, Gilnith III fell defending the forts, lasting no more than a year. _

_The third and final attack was a siege of the Imperial City itself, _

_occurring after the Council of Elders had split up the army and eastern _

_Ashtaroth. The weakened government had little defense against _

_Gilnith IV's determined aggression, and capitulated after only a fortnight _

_of resistance. After her father's death Ethariel took the throne that same _

_evening and proclaimed herself Empress of the Suraki Empire._

_Ethariel inherited not only the throne from her father, but the debt from _

_the latter's poor financial and judicial management. Ethariel dismissed all _

_of the Elder Council, and allowed only those willing to pay great sums to _

_resume their seats. She encouraged similar acts among vassals, the kings _

_of Ashtaroth, and by the end of her nineteen year reign, Ashtaroth had _

_returned prosperity."_

Blödsvar finished reading the small chapter of the colossal book, but continued to stare blankly at the page. Although Blödsvar did love to read about history's past he did not feel like reading anymore. As he scanned through room he began to hear footsteps from all over. The sound startled him as he was nearly asleep--he had to be the only one in the entire room for it was rather small compared to any other library. He heard the footsteps again; only this time there were dozens of them. He then realized that the footsteps were from the library above. Blödsvar used his phenomenal hearing senses to try to comprehend at what the people were trying to say. _Bang! Bang! _The crowd began to gather together, the footsteps were stopped, and the voices of the people detracted to know more than a whisper. "Silence!" yelled a man. Blödsvar slowly rose from the chair and got on top of it and put his ear against the roof.

"I have called you here today, upon my request, that King Dalazaar has no speculations that we are to rebellion over him and take over his military." The voices became louder but no more intelligible as the group of men reached the floor exactly above Blödsvar where he could now hear them more instinctively. Blödsvar could recognize a few of the men by the sound of their voices.

And of the voices he could identify he heard: Niridran, whom was the Noble Prince of the House Afruldur and has been convicted of illicit doings, Tiltar Ejaydala, was the Duke of his house until he killed his brother to become Noble Prince but was denied for the killing, and Raijen, father of Aelesar and King of House Pagrond, he and Dalazaar were once best friends, like their sons, but the friendship was broken up by a feud when Dalazaar was named King. Arlin also heard the voice of Kyrull, who had been a friend of Dalazaar's since the two's childhood. Now that Blödsvar knew that the librarian was part of this rebellion he figured that him and his father's friendship would be broken just as his and Raijen's.

"Silence!" yelled the man whom Blödsvar figured was their leader. He had heard the voice just a minute ago and had it at the tip of his tongue but it had slipped away. "We are in desperate need of men and I have heard from one of our spies that the King wishes to forward more troops into battle. This my friends is good news. I have spoken to Aldroz, the goblins' leader and he has told me that he has just enough battalions to last for another year or two. I have already sent news to him that we are to take over the kings headship in a few days and when that happens we will have to vote on a man to take over as king.

"Now we will hold the vote in a minutes and in that time I want you to think about on who you wish to vote for. Now back on schedule, when we take over the King's leadership there will be _no_ one who will be able to resist are magicians and spellcasters. We have recruited the strongest in the city and with that power we shall take over the Aemmiel Mountains with our ally, the goblins of Granermor, and after that break out of this prison of darkness and silence that our kings have forced and held us in for o so many centuries." _Hail! _the men shouted. Enthralled

There was long paused filled with more clattering of forks and knives digging into the food and into the men's mouths' and down to their stomachs. When they spoke again it was to discuss whether they ought to have the voting now, as planned, or to hold it of for another day or so. Deciding now was the right time, the distinguished lanterns filled all about the room and closed the doors and shut the windows.

Blödsvar, who had found the need to remain silent increasingly difficult the longer he was eavesdropping, now found himself unable to whisper no more than, "Father--take over--"

"Silence!" yelled the man for the third time, "It is now time for the voting." There was an immediate and extensively long silence as the man spoke once more, "Now this is how the voting will go down. I will call out one of the two men whom we have decided to take over as king. They are Raijen and Niridran. We have also decided that only councils members will vote, and since the three candidates are council members, they will vote but we will add an extra three members to make the count an even fourteen. In which, the three extra members added will be; Gadreal, Zaera, and Baleral. And so let the count begin."

Blödsvar was hoping that Raijen wouldn't win and that Niridran would. Raijen was a very callous person and would not let anyone stand in his way if he would become King. He would take malevolent penalties on those who would oppose him. Now the voting began. "I Fenamal, vote for Raijen as our leader."

Blödsvar released all his pent-up breath. _One_. In order to become the leader of the rebellion, one of the two candidates had to win a majority of the votes from the other council members, which was eight out of the fourteen. Then the next person went, "I Techalà, vote for Niridran as our leader and future king." Blödsvar sighed and thought at least Niridran would do less tyranny as king other than Raijen. It was tied up _one _each.

Then spoke the next person, "I Ralasë, vote for Niridran as our leader." Looking down in front of him, Blödsvar made sure that the chair was on all four legs. But it wasn't as he expected as the chair was wobbling. He got down and scooted the chair in the table and moved out a new one that made a loud creaking noise when he sat it down. He held his breath and himself still, hoping that the others wouldn't hear from above. He waited for another minute and got back up on the chair and put his ears against the roof once more. _I hope they didn't hear that, _he thought. "Sir, the coast is clear. The guards say there is no one outside," the man stipulated.

"Good, lets get back to the voting," the elder said. Blödsvar had heard the man's voice somewhere before but he just couldn't make out who it was.

"I Jenla," she declared, "vote for Niridran as our superior leader." The count was now _three_ to_ one_. Arlin was relieved that Niridran was up by two votes but it would be just as easy for Raijen to make a comeback. "I Balgar, vote for Raijen as our leader."

_Three_ to_ two._ Arlin knew that the votes wouldn't all come to Niridran and that it was probably going to be a close election. _Down to the last vote more likely, _Arlin began to think. "I Cheralí, vote for Niridran."

"I Yaelen," she proclaimed, "vote for Raijen."

The votes were beginning to get faster. _Four _to _three_. Seven votes down and seven more to go. At the moment the election was either of the two's game. But both of them were yet still to vote with Niridran up next. "I Niridran," he declared, "vote for myself as our leader." And with that he remained in the lead with the count _five _to _three._ All Niridran needed now was three votes to win. It was quite impossible for Raijen to make a comeback this far into the voting. "I Baleral, vote for Raijen as our leader."

"I Gadreal," she announced, "vote for Niridran."

_Six _to _four_. Two more votes went by quickly as the election was speeding. Four votes remained as Raijen had to capture all of them to win but all Niridran had to get was one more to tie, which Blödsvar didn't know what would happen after if they both tied, but he needed two to win. "I Gallíndo, vote for Raijen as our leader." Blödsvar had now known the voice he had been vexing to hear: Gallíndo. The old magician was one of the strongest spellcasters in the city and more likely the world. He had told stories to the kids of how he dueled one of the few remaining wizards and defeated a dark paladin. If the old elf was in an alliance with this rebellion there would be no way for Dallazaar to defend his headship as King and still be involved with the war. "I Raijen, vote for myself as our new leader."

And with that vote the ballot was tied at _six_. With still one of the council members and the other person who was added to the voting either one, Raijen or Niridran, had to capture both of these next two votes. "I Zaera," he said, "vote for Niridran."

_Seven _to _six_. Only one vote was left and one vote decided whether Raijen would tie it or Niridran would become the rebellion's leader. Blödsvar held his breath as he waited to hear what the last vote was. _If the next vote_, he thought, _went to Raijen then they would have to go to a tie or something. And if he wins the sudden death there would be no one able to stop him with his power and authority. Then again, if the next vote was to go to Niridran there is nothing I know that he would do as an act of King. Although, I do know that he was put to trial for many delinquencies and had once killed someone. _

A voice interrupted Blödsvar's thoughts."It seems it falls upon me to decide today's meeting and; therefore, I Morukan, vote for Niridran as our leader and our _future_ king."

The round room was filled with grey lanterns that hung on the walls every few feet away from each other. A wrought-iron circular table stood in the middle of the room. The stone floor was covered by an intricate oval rug that laid nearly the width of the room. There was four doors spread out equally from each other with two guards at each door. Twelve men circled around the table one of which was Dalazaar. On the table laid a huge map of Torlinthial and the surrounding areas. Dalazaar said, "Welcome to the Council Chamber, my advisors. Please, seat yourselves."

The men slipped into armchairs. "The meeting has been called upon by a count that the goblins are growing in huge numbers. We have also gotten word that some goblins came across a band of deserted bazins," said Dalazaar."

"How can their numbers be increasing? The strength of their battalions are limiting their abilities," said the black-haired crooked-nose elf.

"What do you mean, Berardi?" asked the azure-haired elf.

"That the goblins are sending so many of their strongest warriors into battle, soon enough they will be no more stronger than they were when they were created. And by that how are their numbers just increasing, we must find out how they are getting stronger by using their strongest fighters."

"As King Dalazaar said before they have joined forces with a band of bazins," said the black-haired elf. Dalazaar sank deep in thought, pondering at what the men were discussing. Shouts came from all sides of the room as men gave thoughts and ideas. Dalazaar could feel his chair pulsate through the yelling and arguments. He sat there quit not paying attention to any of the advisors staring at the map and thinking on what he should do with the condition. "My fellow men," he shouted, "we must concentrate on the situation at hand. Yes, Aldroz's forces are growing stronger. Yes, he has allianced with a band of bazins. Yes, he is going to attack. The question is when is he going to attack? And how is he going to attack? We answer these questions and we will be ready to secure or kingdom and keep are family and friends in safe hands."

There was a long and immediate pause. An advisor couldn't hear the breathing of the man next to him. They could all hear their own thoughts as if they were speaking clearly. Dalazaar continued to stare at the table, blankly. He hadn't even noticed that the advisors were quietly waiting for him to speak. "Oh…I'm sorry," he then noticed.

"My lord, are you alright?" asked the tallest advisor. There was another silence in which Dalazaar had no clue that he had been asked a question. "What?" he responded.

"My fellow counselors, would you be gracious enough to leave the room so that me and Lord Dalazaar hear can speak in private," said Dalazaar's secondary. As the men left the room Dalazaar's assistant walked around the table eyes fixed upon the King. Dalazaar had hardly any clue that the advisors had left the room. "Guards will you please leave the room as well," repeated the assistant. He placed his hands on the table beside the King and himself began to stare at the map until the last person walked out the door.

Dalazaar was silent for a few minutes and stood listening to the weary screeching of the outside wind blowing against the stone walls. An idea was slowly forming and growing in his brain, an idea that gained strength every time that he looked aside to the advisor who was fighting so grimly against the pain and exhaustion that the goblins had struck upon them. In the pain and languor that Dalazaar himself was feeling the old fierce hatred seed to be dying down.

"Gilan," he said presently, "do as you please with your command of battalions. There is a compact space in these woods that the goblins wish to have. _We_ are in that zone. No, I can scarcely see anything; there is so much blood caked around my eyes from this gruesome war. But in any case, as for me, I've changed my mind. My regiment will remain…here…in this structural kingdom built by our ancestors thousands of years ago. This wrangle between myself and the other advisors is drivel. They know for sure that my father gave his life to politics. Under his crown this kingdom of safety from maleficence and free inquiry of your own beliefs stood for more than two hundred years without disaster striking or chaos rupturing. Those inelegant peasants of legislation outside are no more than puny ants of egoistic self-divinizationists."

"My lord, if I may say, we are dealing with no mere goblin. Aldroz has a power beyond that of a regular goblin. He has knowledge of that of a scholar and strength of that of a bazin…The winds of change _are _blowing, my lord."

"What are you suggesting, Tynril?," asked Dalazaar.

"You have powers that Aldroz does not. Why not use these powers against him. Your magic is just as great of that of a wizard. You have twice the power that he and his army possess."

"You ask of me to call upon the magicians of the city. To urge on those who have already guarded our city into security. Implore to whom have given this kingdom protection. Summon them who have, in the past, given safety to our kingdom."

"No, my lord. Never do I wish for you to call the magicians and sorcerers into action. We have many for that. Though not as gifted as the retired, but well-trained. My lord, you have power and might that you do not respect." Tynril's voice suddenly lowered to a weak speech, but higher than a whisper. "Call upon the animals of the forest. If the magicians and sorcerers do not answer your call than they certainly will. Aldroz will not be able to take on the combined powers of your army and as well as the animals. Sure his forces are growing but with the vast and boundless army of animals you will be able to lay siege upon his mighty army and stop this absurd and irrational war that has overcome our city for nearly thirty years."

A moody silence settled over the two like a foreboding thunderhead. Dalazaar sank deeply in thought, pondering on what Tynril had suggested. Tynril waited calmly for him to speak, undisturbed by the silence.

For the first time since being named King, Dalazaar felt that he understood what was going on around him. The room was now filled with the excused advisors. None of them sat in chairs but stood attentively ready to hear the King's plan. Dalazaar tapped on the stone table before beginning.

"No incoherent motion has thrown us against one another. Only stability and solidity have brought us together in the plans that we have enacted over the years during the span of this war. Our time has called for desperate measures and careful ideas. To formulate the plan in which me and Advisor Tynril have thought out we will have to call upon the magicians and sorcerers of the city. To instigate this ideal of myriad possibilities we will need all of you to partake in this unfeasible mission. The goblins are only a disease consumed by a gluttonous madness that have tarnished their minds." Dalazaar paused, his rich eyes somber. Shadows bit into his face under his cheekbones, making them jut out. "Along with the vagrant band of bazins the goblins have allianced with we will need extra help not only within the kingdom's walls but with the outside as well. Using the magicians and sorcerers we can summon the animals of the forest who can help us take part in this war as it wages to the end. Only now are we in great need of support, strength and defense. With the help of the animals of the forest we can completely annihilate these foul creatures or…come to a truce and peace with them. As dangerous as a truce would be this, at point, is our secondary option. Knowing that we are in deep trouble with the loss of three full battalions this morning; there will be no need for desperate measures but including meticulous measures. In saying this, I mean to carefully orchestrate our young warriors within the schools of the city. Now I know that some of you have family of your own in the schools but as do I. This _is _the only way to defeat the goblins and once again take control of the forest like we once had."

Blödsvar woke upon the sound of the dropping door. The stone crackled as the small chamber gave off a scent of abiding core to the massive library. The door split two ways forcing its way into the ground creating a space into the small entranceway. Kazumi walked out wearing different clothes than that of his librarian robes. He stood looking at the floor lifting his head until he came to dead stare at Blödsvar. He leaned his head to the right and widened his eyes to see if the young elf was awake. Kazumi was born with separate genes than a normal wood-elf; he didn't have infravision and wasn't skinny but rather large in the stomach. The room was lightened by only one lantern which laid upon the middle of the table. The librarian walked forward to see the young elf staring dead at him with an unfamiliar look.

"Are you finished from down here?," asked Kyrull.

Blödsvar remained in an unusual stare thinking about while ago upon the revolting rebellion and why Kyrull had let the horrific rebellion allow their meeting in the library. It was preposterous. The sound of the footsteps upstairs were no longer in the midst. Blödsvar was no longer thinking that the librarian was leading him into a trap. Then again there was no sound amongst the floor above them. It was quiet and a little too quiet. The young elf could hear the jump of crickets and spiders in the corners with his amazing sensible ears.

"Yes," he responded. Blödsvar stood slowly from his chair and walked towards Kyrull whom stuck his hand out offering the young elf to go first. They got into the small room and the two stone walls came together closing on a loud bang and the room was forced upwards. Blödsvar's ankles began to weaken, lips beginning to tremble, teeth chattering faster than a speeding cheetah, and he felt his stomach twisting inside. Staring to the ground thinking that he must be walking straight into a trap. Then remembered the small dagger in his right boot that would come into handy if he was being set up.

The room mad a loud bang as it stopped and the two walls creased open. Kyrull shuffled his feet and backed himself against the wall raising his right hand, "After you," he said.

Blödsvar stared at him and walked passed him outside the room. To the corner of his eye the young could see another elf with sword in hand and then glazed his eyes the other way to see another elf with a samurai in hand. They jumped at Blödsvar who ducked and rolled across the ground. The blades came together so hard they threw out a blue-white spark bright enough to burn its gentle arc into Kyrull's vision who stood just inside the small room. The impact sent a shudder through the heavy blade of the sword and samurai, Blödsvar ignored it and pushed back in the direction of the attack.

Before jumping at one of the swordsman he drew his dagger from his boot and caught one of the swordsman's head with his open hand taking the dagger and slicing the neck of the elf. Blood rushed out of the neck and onto Blödsvar's wrist and hand. Blödsvar quickly pushed the elf to the ground and threw his dagger towards the other swordsman which hit the elf in the neck where blood again came rushing out. Blödsvar rushed over and pulled his dagger from the elf's neck where blood squirted out and the swordsman fell to the ground. The young elf turned and jumped at Kyrull but before he could get him a voice shouted, "_bahruir!_"

Blödsvar froze immediately in mid air. There was no ice in the library nor was it even cold, he just froze like he couldn't move. His joints felt unstable and he himself could not move a muscle. Barely could he move his eyes. Still stuck and froze in mid air he floated around the enormous shelve of books to see over a hundred other elves focused upon him. They were all dressed in the fanciest robes which sparkled many colors. A few of the elves Blödsvar knew including some that spoke while ago in their meeting.

Gallíndo, the old magician that Blödsvar couldn't remember was amongst the elves who had his hand stuck out closely to that of a claw. Blödsvar had now seen that the old magician was the one who cast the spell to freeze him. Gallíndo was dressed rather more dark than the other elves. He had a flowing gown with fur tippets which had the signs of Akhir, the God of Earth in the elven pantheon. Embroided over it was various cabalistic signs, such as triangles with eyes in them, crosses, leaves of trees, bones of birds and animals, and a planetarium whose stars shone like bits of looking glass cap, or like the headgear worn by ladies, except that the ladies were accustomed to have a bit of veil floating from the top of it.

Gallíndo lowered his hand and Blödsvar was lowered to the ground. Two guards held the young by his arms and pulled him closer to the top of the steps. Blödsvar tussled with the two guards struggle to set himself free. As they brought him to the top step an altar laid before them. Still struggling two more guards jumped in laid the young elf on the altar strapping him down with ropes.

No spell Blödsvar could think of would get him out of this situation. Screaming wouldn't work as he thought they would kill him right there on the spot. He pulled his arms as hard as he could to see if he was strong enough to break the ropes. Twisted into three knots the ropes were to strong and there was no way of escaping.

"Once upon in an age long lost," Gallíndo began, "the Three Voices spoke out to give authority and sanction from the call of the dark'rai. They themselves gave uncontrolled power to the dark'rai and all of whom who serve the Dark. It was by them that Xeakt, Ixinon, and Azahr who gave their spirit to the mighty Necros produced our power by the darkness that resides inside of us. Within this flower, the neocrian, or Flower of Death the Three Voices reside in the trillium of these three petals amongst the flower."

The flower was all black with purple sepals that were as sharp as a bear's claw. The six stamen were nothing other than poison leaked inside the anther. The whorl which attached all the parts had, in the middle, a spit of contagion and corrupted diseases that when it spat at you could kill you immediately.

"We now vow to always observe the scriptures as they are presented in the mightiest and holiest of books, the Book of Maqe. Now my brothers and sisters, having given to you the brief history of the almighty Triumvirate of the Three Voices we have come to the true sacrifice."

Four elder elves stepped forward, holding four torches, standing at the end of the altar. Gallíndo pulled out a knife from within his robe and whetted it carefully. It looked like to Blödsvar, when the gleam of the torchlight fell on it, as if it were made of gheldmite, nor of steel nor of stone, but the strongest substance within the land and was of a strange and evil shape. At last the sorcerer drew near. He stood by Blödsvar's head. His face was working and twitching with passion. Then just before he gave a blow, Gallíndo looked out to the rebellion and said in a quivering voice:

"In dark times, truth bears a blade and that blade bears in my hand. Sacrilege! A noble ally in life, made nothing more than a glorified kite in death. In the aftermath of war, when the slaying is long done, the greatest miseries come home to roost…Dimir rank and file see nor hear their guildmaster. All orders are given through the mysterious necrosages who appear from the shadows, tersely toss out a command, and then melt into the darkness."

Out from the corner of the ceiling of the room a dark cloud appeared. Flying at a magnificent speed it spun around the room circling left and right round the other elves. In front of the black dust a human with no wings flew all about the room filling the entire library with the dark black dust as if it were its host. Soon enough the room and the entire library was covered with the black dust-cloud. The being sat in the air as still and careful as a turtle staring down upon the elves whom summoned it. The necrosage wore an intricate dark black robe with ancient symbols that were a bright white color. Its dark black hair was blended with the black dust-cloud it had formed. Its boots were black with a strip of yellow down the side and were made of a strong metallic-like substance. The blade of the necrosage's sword was about four feet long and the hilt was a foot and a half long. His face was as ruthful as a Dark God.

Then finally the necrosage spoke out, "The power of the mighty necrosage's grows ever so stronger. In a few months time their strength will be at its peak and they will break free from the Abyss bringing with them a much larger and a much stronger dark power than they have ever had before. I, Xiomara, take the pleasure in accepting this young elf in a sacrifice to help us, the mighty necrosage's. Now my followers kill this wrongful elf as he shall turn into a blazing fire in the Abyss for his erroneous worshipping of the wrong Gods and his untrue studying of the improper magic and off beam fighting."

The necrosage then disappeared leaving behind a cloud of black smoke. Within a minute the dark black dust-clouds that had filled the library were gone and as the last speck dissolved into the air a shadow outside the library ran around the corner of the huge building closest to the door to which nobody seen.

Gallíndo raised his dagger slowly murmuring a few word sentence over and over as he got louder with the bringing of the dagger over his head until finally everyone in the room could hear the sentence. He stopped and looked down at Blödsvar and recited the sentence over once more and this time everyone could hear it. The silence came once again for the last time and Gallíndo struck down the dagger towards the young elf's stomach as hard as he could but not before the glass shattered from the outside in one both side of the library. The doors busted open with archers aiming to kill and in the front lead King Dalazaar along with his son Baalor and a few of his advisors.

The charge of King Dalazaar and the rest of his small battalion hit the elven rebellion as hard as the forest quakes. Its force was impetuous and daredeviling risking the life of Blödsvar by taking a gigantic step blocking the threat towards the kingdom and the democracy of its people.

Dalazaar drew his powerful sword not fully understanding the power of Gallíndo. His eyes felt a lust for vengeance and his sword felt a thirst for blood - Gallíndo's blood. The magician was far more powerful than Dalazaar mentally; but not physically.

As the battalion of warriors faced off against the elven rebellion, Blödsvar hoped that non of the rebel fighters would come to sacrifice him as he thought the sacrificing was still at hand. From around the corner drew an elf with mysterious tattoos on his face wearing a raggedy robe. He quickly ran to the altar stared down at Blödsvar and drew a dagger from his robes with his right hand and began to strike down the young elf to finish the sacrificing. But before he touched the skin of the young elf he froze immediately and then turned to see that one of his own had turned against him and fell to the ground dead.

Kyrull had stabbed the elf with his letter opener. Then the librarian pulled a sword from the stage and swung at the four ropes that had tied Blödsvar together. Blödsvar got up and sat rubbing his wrist and feeling his ankles as they were somewhat bloody from the ropes tying him up for so long.

From around the corner another rebel elf came with his sword in the air ready to attack Blödsvar and Kyrull. Before he got close to the King's son the librarian swung low giving a deep cut in the abdomen towards the elf as he fell dead to the ground beside the other rebel elf who tried to succeed in the sacrificing. The young elf had never thought that Kyrull was so skilled with a sword or even in melee combat.

Blödsvar looked towards Kyrull and said, "But I thought-"

"You thought I would turn against your father, the king…you were wrong. Now come, we need your help to finish this rebellion once and for all."

The King was filled with anger and annoyance as he stood staring down the magician of old. From the corner of his eyes Dalazaar could see his forces taking out the rebellion and ravaging the extremely old library. King Dalazaar drew Ebrithil from his sheath as Gallíndo drew his sword as well. Gallíndo's sword was thin and sharp like any elven sword but was unique in its own way as it could distribute magic at any time from the owner's will.

"It was foolish of you to hold your meeting here today, Gallíndo. You and your anarchists will be killed from the very spots that you stand. Give up now and you will be spared but if you don't I will kill you," said the king.

"This democracy of yours has stood for long enough. You…will be the one who will die, and I…will takeover this kingdom with a force that has never been witnessed."

The two swung at each other trying to kill one another, creating a forceful gust of wind as their swords swung through the air. When their swords met in a clash that was so mighty the library itself shook with destuction and Gallíndo's sword released a blast of blue magic that flew to the ceiling of the library busting through the glasss ceiling and into the cloudless skies. A struck of thunder sounded off in the sky creating a tremor that shook the entire land.

Gallíndo brought down his blade and Dalazaar raised his arm to protect himself. The magician's smile died, and his brow furrowed in frustration and anger. Another blow that felled trees and shattered stones sent Dalazaar skidding backwards with a slash across his face. With a roar of anger Gallíndo shot out his hand and yelled, "_Vasinta_" in the ancient language meaning 'fire'.

Dalazaar ducked beneath his sword as the magic reflected off of Ebrithil backfiring into the sky through the enormous hole in the ceiling. The King then leapt high, fuelled by anger and by his own magic, his blazing fists smashing the old magician across the face. Reeling from the blow, Gallíndo took several steps back, shaking his head.

Landing lighty, Dalazaar readied himself to strike again when the magician let out a great scream of pain. The King turned his blade in his hand, the metal casting reflected light from the small fires, that had formed from the other sorcerers within the rebellion, on the dark ground. He lunged. Metal clanged, and the tip of Ebrithil hit the ground. The King managed to keep his grip on the hilt, but Gallíndo was too quick as he was moving in circles.

The magician squeezed his eyes shut and tossed his head to the left side as one brilliant light exploded into a sheet of magical flame, right out of nowhere. The blue magical shield was constructed of thin air and had the magical ability of twenty spells combined into one relevant boisterous structure.

Gallíndo tossed the shield into the body of Dalazaar who went plummeting to the rock hard wall. The second toss Gallíndo sent the shield was towards the five elven spearmen a few feet away from killing the skilled magician. After the last toss the shield split into a hundred magical disruptions that went firing towards many of the elven spearmen and rebellion fighters killing them. One little spark flashed between Kyrull and Blödsvar that caused the two to bounce back feeling a small wind that led the young elf to the ground and the librarian offering him a hand back up.

The magical shield was so powerful it could only withstand more than one or two impacts of such dominance, and it was prudent to get out of the line of fire.

In response to the shield blasting into pieces, the dust and the sulfurous smoke from the crash of the discharging shield swirled to a central spot of the library and gathered into a large globe. Dalazaar pointed grimly in the direction of the unseen magician, and the floating globe obediently rounded the corner towards its prey.

Gallíndo, being to amazed with the magical shield he created did not see the globe round the corner and hammer him into the wall so ferociously that it made the forest shake on its trunks. The great globe stood over the dumbfounded magician like the sun over its kingdoms. The King walked from around the corner with his right hand holding his sword upwards ready to attack and his left hand penetrating the globe through the air. The globe was a big blue soldering of dark magic created by the dust, smoke, and dark materials used by Gallíndo himself to create the magical shield.

"What say you?," shouted King Dalazaar towards the broken magician.

Gallíndo got back to his feet and closed his eyes concentrating on the spell he was about to release. Magical winds began to absorb around the vigorous magician and mysterious strands of mystical energy formed around Gallíndo as if he was the center of a maelstrom. The gigantic blusterous winds circled around the magician forming a small but potent tornado that shook the library and took books out of their places into the circling disaster of destruction.

Dalazaar stood with his motions and conscience in action; sword in hand and the globe motionless in the air spinning in circles. Warriors of Dalazaar's command came to his side on both the left and right. Baalor, Blödsvar, and Kyrull lined up on the left side of Dalazaar along with a few warriors and the advisors; Tynril, Berardi, and Mahgrath stood to the right side of the King with a few warriors behind them. All of them seemed to be concentrating on one very important thing: to capture Gallíndo.

The one who had terrorized their town multiple times with his suicidous magic methodical ways upon inquiring the mind with false accusations. That same elf that just four hundred years ago tried to bring savagous orcs into the city whom themselves wiped out an entire House. The same magician that now just over two hundred years ago cooperated with the goblins outside the city and formed the cultous rebellion whom believe in the Black Magic and Dark Ways and necromantic conjuring of the dark spirits from that of the dead.

"You have nowhere to go, Gallíndo." said Dalazaar with a long pause, "Now come quitly and help us restore the kingdom to its rightful displacement from the murderous goblins outside the city walls whom you gave open arms to just not that long ago. Come now and your life might be sparred upon cooperating with us."

"What makes you think that I will join your treacherous ways and conjure up the despiteful minds of those within the kingdom that your father tore apart long ago?," said Gallíndo.

"None of that matters now. Just join with us on exterminating these malevolent creatures. You will be given amnesty!"

"Greed, misery, and grief has broken the armistice amongst us." And with that Gallíndo disappeared into the tornado that he rightfully created from his own distribution of the rebellion. The tornado swirled towards the sky and the globe that Dalazaar withheld shattered at his own command. The magician had escaped.


End file.
